When You Call Them "husband"

when you call them "husband"

how the blue lock boyfriends react when you call them "husband".

pairings: itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, isagi yoichi x fem!reader (no descriptions tho, just the words "mrs." and "wifey") (separate) | warnings: established relationship, fluff, kissing, the boys are simps, shidou is a warning itself

notes: hi guys! another one of these scenarios since you guys seemed to like the other one so much <3 thank you for all your love and support! also it's my first time writing for shidou so i hope this isn't absolute garbage.

Itoshi Sae

one of your and sae’s favorite couple activities was driving around the city. you loved the feeling of madrid’s summer breeze kissing your face and messing up your hair, and sae… well, he would never admit that, but sae loved anything that made you happy, even if it meant driving with no clear destination in mind until his feet hurt. so it was no wonder you convinced him to do just that on that afternoon.

after half an hour of wandering around town on a porsche, you decided that some starbucks would do both of you well. your little pleading eyes quickly convinced sae to stop by one, letting you order since the intercom was on your side.

“welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you today?” the man’s voice came out of the intercom, the spanish accent still making it a bit difficult for sae to fully comprehend, despite living in madrid for years now. 

“hi! i’d like a caramel frappuccino and a chocolate muffin, please.”

“anything else?”

you turned to him, asking in a whisper, “what do you want, baby?”

“just an iced matcha tea latte.” he shrugged. you smiled, and sae had to fight the urge to smile too. it was maddening, really — how much of an effect you had on him with something as simple as a turn of lips.

he watched as you turned back to the intercom, “and my husband wants an iced matcha tea latte. that would be all, thank you.”

distracted, sae started to take his foot off the brake to go to the payment booth, but suddenly his body froze. he furrowed his eyebrows, confusion etched on his teal eyes.

wait. 

fucking wait. 

sae didn’t register what the guy on the intercom said next, much less what you answered. he didn’t even notice the line of cars behind him and the need to move forward. all that mattered was that one word that fell from your mouth seconds prior.

“what did you call me?” he asked, silently afraid that it was all a trick from his mind fed on his deepest wishes. 

it was only then you seemed to realize what you said. “o-oh, i… i’m sorry, it just— it just came out…” you squeaked, bashful. fuck, you were so pretty like that, with your cheeks rosy while averting his gaze. 

sae smirked, pinching your chin so that you would look at him. he kissed you with a sweetness that wasn’t usually present in his bitter mouth, and you melted at his gentleness. 

“don’t apologize,” he said as he broke the kiss. “i liked that, mrs. itoshi.”

it seemed like it was finally time for that velvet box on the bottom of his drawer.

Shidou Ryusei

peace. peace was all you wished for — at least a little bit. five minutes on the phone to schedule an appointment was not asking for much, was it?

apparently, for shidou, it was.

you were well aware your boyfriend was selfish, and that was an universal rule when it came to your attention. considering he spent a lot of time away for games overseas, you couldn’t blame him for wanting some time alone, since you wanted it too. 

however, you really needed to schedule your doctor’s appointment, and your whiny boyfriend was making this task extremely difficult. every time you started talking to the lady on the other side of the phone, ryusei would butt in with very unnecessary comments that made your eyes roll. you apologized profusely to the woman about a hundred times, and she assured you it was okay. she even said it was sweet. 

if you weren’t so annoyed, you would have thought it was sweet, too. ryusei was never one to shy away from expressing his love, even if it meant embarrassing you and himself in the process (although he was completely shameless, so it made no difference).

“will anyone pick you up after your exam, ma’m?”

you could faintly hear what the woman was saying, since shidou was babbling nonsense in your ear as if you weren’t on a phone call. it made you sigh, and you rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“yes, my husband will pick me up.”

and then, silence. 

it took you a minute to realize that the outside noise disappeared and ryusei had completely stopped talking. you blinked a couple times, confused, and turned your head to look at your boyfriend sitting on the couch. to your surprise, he was blushing and gaping like a fish, in what seemed to be utter disbelief.

you braced yourself for what was about to come. 

“HUSBAND?!”

ah, there it is. his scream pierced through the living room, and you were certain even the other side of the country heard it. 

“thank you for everything, ma’m. i should be going now,” you told the receptionist. she only giggled and wished you a good day. 

the second you put your phone down, ryusei’s arms were around your middle, lifting you up and twirling you around like some cliche romance movie. your prior annoyance melted away in a second, and you could only giggle like a schoolgirl in love. 

“awww, ya wanna be my wifey?” he cooed, putting you down without letting you go. his nose touched yours and you blushed with the intensity of his stare. 

though you wouldn’t back down. 

“of course i do, ryu.” you smiled sweetly. your boyfriend stared at you, shocked and bashful for the second time in the span of five minutes, and then groaned when broken from his stupor. 

what a little devil, he thought. 

and then he kissed you, intense and dominating like only ryusei knew how to be, prodding his tongue in your mouth when you gasped and savoring every corner of your mouth. it was one of those kisses that swept you off your feet and left you dizzy, and he could tell from the hazy look in your eyes when he finally backed away.

“fuck, i love you so much. you ‘gon be my wifey, baby, i promise ya.”

Isagi Yoichi

you were usually the one to accompany yoichi to parties — mostly galas thrown by sponsors who wanted to secure a deal with some sports hotshot —, so, for him, it was a breath of fresh air to be your plus one on the holiday party of the company you worked for. 

since the company in question was a corporation, it was no wonder the decoration was flawless, with lots of gold and red to represent the christmas that would soon arrive. the soundtrack was mainly composed of classical music, and he smiled watching you enjoying a vivaldi song. it reminded him of the early days of your relationship, where you teached him about your favorite classic musicians such as beethoven, mozart, ludovico einaudi and chopin.

your arms were linked as you wandered around the hall, and, non surprisingly, everyone seemed to want to talk to you. of course they would; you were the sweetest, kindest and smartest soul to walk on this earth. isagi couldn’t be more proud of all the recognition you were getting, because you deserved more than anyone he knew. 

“are you having fun, baby?” you suddenly asked. the striker finally noticed he had been staring at you for a while as you drank a glass of champagne. he blushed, but nodded. 

“how could i not? i’m with you.”

a giggle left your lips along with a fond roll of your eyes, and yoichi couldn’t help but think that, if he could listen to a single sound forever, he would choose your laugh in a heartbeat. 

“you’re so silly, yoichi,” you playfully chastised him, but stepped forward to give a kiss to his cheek. he smiled, circling your waist with one arm and pulling so that your bodies were glued.

“what can i say, you make me silly, sweetheart.”

“isn’t that what love is supposed to do?” a third voice suddenly spoke, slightly startling the both of you and breaking you from your little bubble. 

you put down your glass on a waiter’s tray, smiling at the man that arrived. “mr. tanaka! what a pleasure it is to see you here.”

“of course! i wouldn’t miss such a party!” he exclaimed, laughing a little loud for the etiquette of that kind of gala, but no one seemed to mind. 

“and who is this?” he asked, pointing to isagi. 

“this is my husband, isagi yoichi. he came today to support me.”

with such simple words, yoichi’s mind went silent. 

he could faintly discern the man saying something about being a soccer enthusiast and a bastard munchen’s fan — mostly from reading his lips, since his ears were buzzing —, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. isagi’s heart was beating so pathetically fast that if he weren’t an athlete, he was pretty sure he would faint right there. 

husband. you called him your husband. 

did that mean you wanted to marry him? he’s been wanting to propose for a while. you have been dating for five years, after all, and yoichi was sure there was no one else in this world he’d rather spend the rest of his life with. did you only say that because you already lived together? or did you actually want a wedding ceremony with all your friends and family, signing the paper that would bound you for good? until death do us part, he remembered. though yoichi would love you even after dying—

“dear?” you called him, worry in your tone. it’s only then he realized he got lost in his thoughts, and both you and mr. tanaka were staring at him.

“oh, sorry. it’s really nice to meet you, sir.” he shook the man’s hand, engaging in conversation.

while you watched them, you smiled coyly, hoping isagi took the hint.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

ex!b.katsuki x reader ; m.izuku x reader — bakugou cheats on his gf, with midoriya's girlfriend.

☆– warnings; ANGST. mention and description of panic attacks, swear words, cheating (bakugou to reader; uraraka to midoriya).

☆–a.n; so here it is! a continuation to THIS DRABBLE. i honestly didn't plan it, but @imaginationmess started brainstorming with me about this a few weeks ago and i couldn't get it out my head! thank you, sweets💕 i hope you like this, even tho i still owe you that villain!bakugou drabble~🙃 i'll work on it soon, i promise~

☆–a.n; also, i decided to split it in several parts. i don't know tho how many parts there will be. i have at least two more parts already written. we will see...😉 don't worry, each link to the parts will be organized in my masterlist♡

The noise around makes you a bit jumpy. It's been weeks since you've been out of your apartment since that day you finally broke down in front of your best friend Mineta Minoru, after Kats-Bakugou finally picked his stuff out of your home.

You're sitting in a little coffee shop close to where you live, waiting. The chattering, the laughs, the kids playing and screaming, the cars and buses that drive outside, everything feels heavy on your chest as it pulls up and down fastly thanks to your breathing. You know what this is, it's not the first time it happened.

Panic attacks. 

You've been having them again since he left.

And you hate them. You hate him for being the reason they appeared again. The first time it happened Mineta had finally convinced you to go out and have some ramen with him late at night after his shift. You accepted, even though you felt your body weak and heavy, only wanting to stay in bed and keep sleeping. Least to say, it ended with Mineta carrying you in his arms, your body trembling non-stop and feeling like you were choking, dying.

But right now, Mineta is not here. And you can feel your throat being closed, like someone was grabbing you by your neck with each breath you take and slowly but firmly putting pressure, until you could breathe no more.

And just when it's about to happen, when you know you're about to make a scene in front of all these people, when the darkness is making its presence in your sight, that he enters the coffee shop.

You don't know why but seeing Midoriya Izuku after so many weeks since you told him the truth, seeing him stand there at the door, a black hoodie that says "HOODIE" in the front and jeans and his typical red trainers as he scans the whole place until his green eyes find yours and smiles openly at you, seeing him walk towards you and getting bigger with each step he takes in your direction –was he ever that big and tall?–, seeing him say "hi" politely to some people who recognized the Number One Pro Hero under the hoodie as he walks inside the place. 

Just seeing him… it takes the pressure off your neck. You can breathe again.

"Hi, Y/N, sorry I'm a bit late," he greets with a shiny smile as he sits in front of you. "I had to finish some paperwork from the night patrol."

You open your eyes wide, "Y-you-" your voice sounds throaty and rough, so you clear your throat. He frowns, watching your neck, but he respectfully waits for you to continue, eyes back on yours, watching you with kindness. "You had night patrol? If I knew, I wouldn't have bothered‐…"

"Oh, no! You didn't bother me at all! You're never a bother, Y/N." His smile is radiant, it's been so long since you had seen someone smile that way in your direction. You feel bad for Mineta. When was the last time he had smiled in your presence? A real, genuine smile. You forgot. "I was hoping you got my message and that you would answer, on your time. But you did answer." You look down, you think his smiles will make you go blind because of its shine.

It was two weeks ago–or three?, you feel like you lost track of time, being on your bed and only getting up when Mineta forced his way into your apartment to make you eat or shower. It's been a while since Midoriya left that message to go grab coffee together. And he had been waiting, and you just now answered.

"I'm sorry… I needed…"

"Time, I know. Me too. It took me a while to process everything. I didn't want to get up off my bed, I barely ate… We both needed time."

You look up at him again and you see him swallow thick, like it's difficult for him to talk about it. And you get it. Fuck, thinking about it only makes you want to cry again. You get it. So you pull one of your hands that were grabbing the cloth of your pants tightly in order to help ground yourself a few moments ago when the panic attack was almost on the surface, and grab his that is laying on the table in front that separates you both.

He looks at it for a moment, your thumb caressing the scars on his hand like it's nothing, and when he looks back up, you try to smile reassuringly.

Everything is going to be okay. You are going to be okay, that's what Mineta tells you every day he goes to check on you. You started to believe he says that aloud to reassure himself more than you, seeing how you didn't have the force to even feed yourself some days and he had to do it. It took you a few days ago, when you tried to reach your phone, you had to get up from the bed and when you did, your legs gave up, making you fall straight to the floor, hitting your chin so hard you think you bit your own tongue as you tasted blood in your mouth. How was this you? Did he really have so much power over you that turned you into this corpse that couldn't even get up to reach the damn phone? Fuck no. You decided it was enough. You decided you were going to be okay.

You know your smile it's not the prettiest or most comforting at the moment, but you try. You try for Midoriya, before saying, "We are going to be okay."

His eyes fill with tears, so visible it makes you want to hold him, protect him–and he's freaking Hero Deku, the most powerful hero on Earth and the Symbol of Hope for humankind. Yet, you can't avoid feeling. Feeling that he doesn't deserve anything that happened. Feeling that he deserves so much happiness and kindness, and he hasn't had that in a long while apparently. It's frustrating watching him break, even this little as he doesn't let the tears escape his eyes and smiles back at you.

Two hours pass and Midoriya and you are still in that coffee shop, chatting animatedly, laughing even. Remembering old times, talking about the present and the future, and about the friends that connected you both.

It feels like… a rush of fresh, cold wind after a hot and humid summer day. You have been so used to the hot, the fire, you forgot that cool, fresh relief existed.

Your phone starts ringing in your little bag and you search it as Midoriya laughs at something you said about Mineta.

"And it doesn't end there…"

"Oh my God, it doesn't? What else could Mineta have done to Bakugou? I understand now why Shoto had to be called in to assist him. Mineta was faking stuff so he wouldn't help him… Genius." You see the tears at the corner of his eyes, but this time they are from laughing. And you find yourself thinking you like that better than the previous tears.

You shake your head, smiling, "He started leaving his purple sticky balls under Bakugou's car wheels." That's it. Midoriya laughs so hard it makes everyone look in your direction. But you don't mind, for the first time in a long while, you don't mind people's attention on you. Midoriya's there. And he's laughing. He is laughing. 

Life seems a bit brighter.

You pick up the call without really looking who it is. "Hello?" You talk in between laughs.

"Y/N? Oh, where… Where are you? I came to the apartment and freaked out when I couldn't find you!" Mineta says, a bit agitated. But you can't avoid laughing again given that the person you were just talking about with Midoriya called you, it is such a funny timing. You signal with a finger to your phone looking at Midoriya and word 'Mineta', which makes him laugh even harder. Midoriya understood the funny timing too. "Are those laughs? Are you laughing?!"

"Sorry… Yes. I'm with Midoriya. We came to grab a coffee."

You can hear Mineta's surprise, you can even picture his eyebrows pulling up high. "Midoriya? As in… Midoriya Izuku?"

"Yes, love, Midoriya Izuku." That makes the green-headed man in front of you shut a bit and look down at his hands. Weird.

"Ow, you haven't called me love in a while… I'm gonna cry," you roll your eyes at your best friend's dramatics.

"Shut up. Do you need something? I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, no, bun. I just came to bring you lunch and then I have to sign in. I'll probably be on shift until late at night so I made sure I cooked enough so you have leftovers for dinner too."

You smile. Your heart feels warm, and you can't help but think you have one hell of a best friend.

"I love you."

"Oh, I'm definitely crying now."

You chuckle, "Take care today, okay?"

"Always am, bun. Have fun with Midoriya, but I can already tell you are..." You can hear the suggestive tone, and you want to punch him.

"Shut up."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

You end the call and look at Midoriya. He's not smiling anymore, just looking at his hands. His fingers fidgeting with each other, his mind clearly in thought.

"Sorry, I didn't tell Mineta where I was going today. He was worried…"

"Oh, yeah, no problem."

It sounds like there is, so you try to dissipate the tension you don't know what produced it.

"You want to know what else Mineta did?"

Midoriya looks up, eyes open wide, smile returning to his face, "There's more?!"

You nod, also smiling. "He once even left them inside the car, messing up with the engine."

"Oh my God! That's why Bakugou asked for another hero to assist him from now on!" Midoriya laughs again. You shake your head and he stops mid-laugh. "That's… It's not? Then what-...?"

"Do you really want to know?" You raise an eyebrow, sounding cheeky and challenging.

His stance changes, you see a spark in his eyes you have never seen before. He smirks and rests his elbows over the table and gets closer to you, his eyes connected to yours, as he murmurs almost in a low tone whisper, "Tell me."

You can feel your cheeks warmer under his gaze, but find the courage to copy his action and get closer to him, even closer to his ear to whisper in a secret.

"Mineta left cockroaches on the copilot seat, for when Uraraka entered the car."

You back away a bit to look at his face. He looks completely surprised, before throwing his head back and laughing so so hard, completely forgetting they are in a public space.

You laugh too, but because he is laughing so lively. You decide then that you'll try that more. Make him laugh.

HQ BOYS MEETING A BEAUTIFUL FAN

⟶ ft. kuroo, suna, ushijima

♡ kuroo

"kuroo? kuroo testurou?"

kuroo whips around, ready to apologise to whoever that the nekoma volleyball team is currently rushing to catch their bus back to school, when he's suddenly hit with...

kuroo's jaw drops.

he doesn't even know how to describe what he's seeing. all he knows is that he's currently staring at the girl of his dreams.

"um, could i take a video with you?" you give him a tentative grin, before rocking back on your heels, adding, "and if it's okay, could you wish my friend to get well soon?"

kuroo immediately closes his mouth, aware that he looks completely stupid in front of the cutest girl he's ever laid eyes on. he gazes at you with his iconic half-lidded eyes, hoping he sounds more confident than the way his heart is clenching in his chest, "oh? a video? and what's your friend's name?"

"misaki! she's your biggest fan but she couldn't be here because she's sick today." kuroo nods empathetically at your explanation, internally swooning because you're going to such lengths for your sick friend? that is so cute.

"sure! a video's nothing! hang on - kenma, help us take a video!"

kenma turns around, about to protest how they have no more time to entertain fangirls when he sees kuroo slinging an arm around you. kuroo shoots kenma a pleading look and kenma finds himself sighing because, of course, kuroo is absolute putty for pretty girls.

when coach nekomata calls for kuroo and kenma, kuroo frowns as he removes his arm around your waist, before he gets an idea.

he leans in closer to you, pressing something into your hands, smirking, "return this to me in school."

before you can even open your mouth and protest, kuroo's gone.

you look down in your hands and see his nekoma jacket crumpling between your fingers as you giggle to yourself.

♡ suna

suna is normally cool as a cucumber, eyes glued to his phone nonchalantly whenever a group of fangirls approach his teammates and gush animatedly.

normally.

he thinks he's being slick when he sneaks a few glances your way, heart clenching in his chest as he sees you move closer - or rather sees your friends drag you towards...him?

suna quickly assesses his situation and scans the area around him - no, the miya twins were not around him. this could only mean one thing - you're headed straight in his direction.

before he has the time to really freak out about an angel of a girl approaching him, you're already getting pushed towards him, with your friends' soft snickers in the background. and you're beaming up at him softly.

he feels his heart in his throat when he hears you repeat, gesturing to your friend who's holding up a polaroid camera, "are you okay to take a photo with me?"

okay? fuck. he is more than okay.

suna blinks, regaining a little composure. straightening his jersey, suna nods at you silently and wraps an arm around your shoulder, hoping you don't hear the way his heart is hammering thunderously against his chest.

holy shit. how do you smell amazing too? what was that - vanilla or something floral?

as suna tries to figure out what exactly is the intoxicating scent wafting around him, the photo is over, a little too fast might he add. he feels you pulling away from him and his arm drops back to his sides.

he knows he sounds uncharacteristically simp-y and even cringes a little at himself, but he knows he will forever regret it if he didn't ask you.

"do you wanna have another photo? with the polaroid camera, i mean."

suna may or may not have left his number behind the second polaroid.

♡ ushijima

"hi!"

ushijima feels a gentle tap on his shoulder right after he hears you. he turns around slowly and -

there is no way you are real.

"hello." he greets, looking stoic in contrast to the way he's internally panicking.

ushijima feels his grip tighten on the volleyball he's holding, taking in the way your eyes shine under the harsh gym lights. he listens to you ramble something about being a fan of his and a reporter as his eyes continue to glaze over your angelic figure, only snapping out of it when he feels kageyama nudging his side.

"so ermmm, what do you do in your free time?" you repeat helpfully, prodding a pen against your notepad.

"uhm." ushijima feels his face heating up. "i take care of my plants."

you're immediately gasping, "no way! i'm a plant mom too!"

"oh, uhhh," ushijima swallows, growing impossibly redder at the revelation of your shared hobby, "what do you grow?"

"roses!"

of course. that suits you, he thinks, pretty flowers for a pretty girl.

before ushijima knows it, he's spluttering nervously, "there's...actually a nursery around here..."

you look up from your notepad, eyes crinkling excitedly as you listen to ushijima explain how to get there. but after a couple of failed descriptions, ushijima scratches his head, "i-if you're not too busy afterwards, i could take you there?"

your eyes widen at the insinuation, before you nod shyly and give ushijima a small smile, which he finds himself melting at.

did ushijima just score himself a date? maybe.

is he complaining? oh hell no.

🤍 reblogs are very appreciated!

Hello merry Christmas :) I saw request was open and was wondering if you could do scenario where the brothers and Solomon (separately) celebrate the holiday with mc and their family in the human world ? Thank you and happy new year! :)

Merry Christmas, Anon! 🎄🎁

It's been a while since I've gotten a request and I really wanted to finish it before Christmas is over in my timezone and I just barely made it ^^;

I hope you like it!

***

The Brothers + Solomon at Your Family's Holiday Party

Lucifer is the perfect party guest. He makes effortless conversation and can get along with pretty much everyone. As devilishly handsome as he is, Lucifer looks good in an apron and he'll definitely take advantage of that. He'll help in the kitchen if needed, he might even help out with the dishes and somehow not get any soapy water on his expensive looking clothes. Throughout the night, he keeps you near as much as possible, with an arm slinked around your waist or a hand in yours, gentle but possessive gestures. It's not that he thinks your family will take you away from him, he just wants everyone to know you're well taken care of. Your family may wonder how you got such a catch, but it's very clear that he's chosen you.

Mammon is a favorite with your older family members, though they might not have known what to make of him at first. He joins in on their card games and loses just as many games as he wins. He tries to keep you near him for good luck and that does seem to work, hopefully the two of you end up with a small pile of riches to show for it, be they candies or cash. He'll insist on bringing the flashiest gifts, but somehow he knows exactly what each of your family members would like, even though he hadn't met any of them before the holiday. Mammon's natural confidence and model good looks make him the center of attention at your family party, and his ego will inflate accordingly. Despite all this, he is a very good party guest, and it is clear to everyone that he adores you.

Leviathan is very shy with your family at first. It takes all of his strength to make the most basic responses to their questions and even then, he beats himself up inside for being "weird". If you get pulled away, he panics. Don't worry too much about him, though. He's stronger than both of you think. He'll gravitate toward the kids table, maybe building Legos with them to soothe himself or starting an impromptu Mario Kart tournament. Of course he's a champion gamer and he shows everyone all his special techniques to get a high score. Levi becomes the new favorite of all the kids. As you leave for the night you'll have several cuties telling you to never break up with him. He's blushing, he didn't realize he made that much of an impression (also he's internally freaking out because you breaking up with him didn't occur to him until now, please promise you won't!)

Satan, like Lucifer, is a perfect party guest. No one would ever know he's actually so guarded and calculating. He's taking mental notes of every interaction the two of you have with your relatives. If any of them seem not quite right (backhanded compliments, rude remarks veiled with insincere smiles) he files away that information for later. If he finds your family to be relatively harmless, he's relieved. Satan has a good handle on his anger, but sometimes he needs a break from all the stimulation so he doesn't have an outburst. If he disappears, you might find him taking a breather with one of your family's furry friends (he's ecstatic if it ends up being a cat). Let him rest until he's ready and he'll come back refreshed and ready to impress your family with his charisma.

You don't have to worry about Asmodeus at all. Even without charming your family members, everyone will love him. He fits in well with the adults, but with the young kids as well. Asmo wants to know all the tea, all the family drama, and he'll give his input on things. He'll especially be on the lookout for any of your childhood photos or stories your family wants to tell. I hope you're comfortable with lots of public affection, because he's another who will keep an arm around your waist the whole evening. He might go as far as sitting on your lap or pulling you down to sit on his, and he'll attack your face with kisses every chance he gets (he'll stop if you ask him to, he promises to be on his best behavior). Please do let him indulge in cuddles a little bit, what's better than snuggling by the fire after dinner as everyone winds down for the night?

With the power of love, Beelzebub is able to quell his normally voracious appetite, and when he does that he basically becomes the perfect boyfriend. He's kind, friendly, AND he eats well? He's constantly complimenting whoever is in charge of cooking, and they'll fill his plate again and again. He'll silently glance toward you to ask if it's ok to take more, and when you nod in approval, he happily digs in. That's another thing, with the way he looks at you, your relatives know it's true love. It's very important to him that you have your special time with your family, his family means so much to him. So he might sit back when you socialize, while the kids try to use him as a jungle gym but he doesn't mind. As long as you're happy with your family, he's happy.

Belphegor is a good party guest when he sets his mind to it. It's probably best to keep him away from plush surfaces, especially when there are lulls in the festivities, because he will tend to doze off (I remember reading someone's headcanon a while ago that Belphie is the type to seek out the party's designated baby sleeping room and crash there, and I totally agree). If this happens, you can tell your family he's suffering from jetlag (whether this is true or not). He's definitely the most subdued of all of the brothers, but he's a surprisingly good conversationalist and gets along well with your family. He may lightly tease you (he still is a bit of a brat) which your family might take as a good sign of his affection for you. Though he's no stranger to loud family gatherings, Belphie will need a few days to recover from all the socializing, so I hope you don't mind him napping longer than usual.

Please, for the love of Diavolo, keep Solomon away from the kitchen during your family's party. Everyone will thank you. Solomon's gifts are the most creative, definitely embued with magic, and I don't think he'd be able to help himself from doing a few minor magic tricks for the kids before the party is over. He'll make an excuse, it was a simple trick, anyone could do it. But you'd know the truth. He chats freely with your family, no shortage of fond remarks from him about you. It's been so long since Solomon has spent this much time around human families, he's taking it all in and enjoying having you by his side. If you were worried about the party going smoothly, you don't have to. Just, maybe toss out that plate of cookies for Santa and replace them, our witty sorcerer may have tampered with the recipe when your back was turned.

TW: violence, gore, female reader, cursing

When Muzan sniffs the wind, and catches the scent of human, he hisses softly, his lips peeling back from his pointed teeth.

He’s not pleased. He hasn’t seen or smelled a human in decades—and now that he’s managed to carve out a territory, there’s one coming back to the mountain? Hell no.

He jumps between the trees, gracefully leaping from branch to branch. He’s going down the mountain, down to the foothills where the scent’s coming from. There’s a house there, he remembers—humans used to live there, hunters, before he killed them all. So, some foolish human’s moved back in.

They’ll be a foolish, dead human soon, before they get near his kin.

He thinks of Rui, caught in an iron-toothed trap and crying like a fawn. He thinks of Gyutaro and Daki, starving and exhausted, driven from their forest to his. He thinks of Zohakuten, trying to carry his brother’s body through the snow, leaving a black trail of blood behind them.

No human will touch them again.

When he lands on the long bough of an oak that stands beside the small house, Muzan notices the gray car drawn up out front, and the boxes on the porch. His nose wrinkles. This isn’t good. The human’s planning to stay.

He doesn’t see one, so he drops down, and takes out his anger on several of the nearest boxes. His claws shred through cardboard, tape, and everything inside—which turns out to be pillows, blankets, and a few clothes. Irritated, he swipes at another box, intent on finding the traps or guns or nets—and his claws shatter glass. The pieces stick in his fingers, and he snarls in pained surprise. He leans over, and sees a small drawing in a frame. His claws broke the glass covering it, but they didn’t rip the drawing.

It’s simple, black lines on cream paper. He cocks his head, and the lines resolve into a forest, waterfall, and pool of water. It’s strangely beautiful, appreciative of the woods and the water in a way Muzan couldn’t imagine from a human.

“Yeah, I heard something outside. It’s probably just some small animal or something. Don’t they have tanukis here?”

Muzan, startled, scrambles up the side of the house and onto the roof. His hands ache and sting, the glass still stuck in the skin.

A human comes out, a phone pressed to her ear. He can tell she’s female, smell it on her. Usually, humans use phones to tell others to come, to join the hunt—but she’s saying, “No, no, I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to come, Aunt Reese, I’m serious. It’s perfect.”

She slips the phone into a pocket of her clothes, and then she notices the wreckage of the boxes.

“What the hell?” she murmurs, squatting to examine the scattered remnants of pillows and bedding and clothes. “Okay, that definitely wasn’t a tanuki.”

When she sees the other box, she gasps and tears it open, sagging with relief when she finds the drawing unharmed. And then she notices the broken glass, which, Muzan suddenly realizes, has his dark blood on it.

“Oh, wow,” she murmurs. “What are you?”

She starts sorting things into piles—unusable, and usable, Muzan thinks—and sighs a few times. She seems more attached to her belongings than he expected. Maybe if he rips up more boxes, she’ll leave.

But he’s going to pick the glass out of his skin first.

You learned very quickly that whatever it was, it didn’t care for your presence in the house.

Every morning, you woke up to find something broken, scratched to ribbons, or just plain unrecognizable. At first, it was just your car—the tires ripped up, the glass smashed, huge divots torn out of the metal like butter—and then the house. Windows scratched, screens with gaping holes. It was like living in a haunted house, and it always happened at night.

But it hadn’t come inside the house. Until now.

The pen and ink drawing your mother made—the last one before she died, before her cancer got worse again, before everything—isn’t in its frame.

You slowly walk out onto the porch, your gut sinking. The sky is still dark, dawn too far off, and the front door is hanging open—and the drawing is on the wood, torn into so, so many pieces.

You sink down on your knees, and as you sift through the wreckage of the last part of your mother, you burst into tears.

Muzan had tried everything to make the human leave, shy of attacking her. He’d demolished her car, her house—and she still wouldn’t leave. She’s a threat. She’ll bring others, hunt him and the others down.

Muzan can’t afford to let her stay.

She cares about that drawing, so he’s going to destroy that paper tonight. See if she’ll stay without it.

So, when the human’s gone to sleep, he creeps up to the house. He goes in the door, into the first room he comes to. And there it is, on the wall. He pulls it out of its frame.

The thing on the wall, the round white thing with black marks around the edge, suddenly makes a noise. A long, loud noise, like a bell.

Muzan jumps and runs, panicked, onto the porch. Movement inside tells him the human’s getting up, and so, hurrying, he shreds the paper and jumps onto the roof. The human won’t stay. He’s made sure of that.

And then she comes out, and she sees the scraps of paper, and she bursts into tears. Muzan pauses. Something in his chest tightens, oddly, when she cries, trying to gather up the pieces.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” she suddenly shouts, her face still wet. “You hate me! You want me to leave! But I—“ She gulps on a sob, voice breaking softly. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. And this is all I have left. So please, please, just leave me alone!”

He should be happy. He should. But he isn’t. Muzan’s chest clenches. He’s gotten used to her face, her smile, the way she whistles off-key while she does her chores. Seeing her break breaks something in him.

Does he care about her?

She goes inside, drooping, and comes back with something strange. Muzan, curious, watches, and she starts using clear things to put the drawing back together. It stays, so the clear strips must be sticky.

A loud ringing sound. Muzan knows it by now—she uses it to know when to get up. Sighing, she gets up, goes back inside.

Muzan drops silently onto the porch, and pulls a strip of clear stickiness off the plastic thing. And he starts sticking the paper back together. He remembers the drawing. It must have really mattered to the human, then.

He’s sorry, oddly. She doesn’t seem to have any guns or knives or traps, and he made her cry.

He doesn’t like to see her cry.

You switch off your alarm clock, and stand beside the bed for a minute, sighing as it sinks in. You don’t have anywhere else to go, but the creature in the woods has made its opinion very clear. You can’t stay.

Slowly, you make your way back out to the porch, and when you see it, you stop.

The drawing’s fixed.

You hadn’t put more than half of it back together, and now it’s all there in one piece. The tape dispenser is scratched—by long, sharp claws you’re more than familiar with by now—but unharmed.

It feels like an apology.

So you take the drawing, and put it back in its place, and then you go through the fridge and bring out some eggs, some bacon. You fry the bacon, scramble the eggs and salt them, and plate the lot—and carry it outside.

“I think you can understand me, or at least some of what I say,” you tell the woods, the sun still out of sight. “You’re a predator, right? So you’ll probably like this. And, um—thank you.”

You leave it on the porch and shut the door. The creature likes its privacy, so you eat your own breakfast in the living room, humming quietly as you stare up at the repaired paper. The creature’s very intelligent—you can hardly tell the drawing was torn at all, from how well it was fixed.

When you check the plate, it’s been licked clean. Literally.

Maybe things are finally looking up.

Muzan sits on the long, overlooking branch of the same oak, watching the human plant a small garden. He smelled the seeds yesterday, when she left them outside. Edible. Nothing dangerous.

He tells himself that if she ever proves dangerous, he’ll drive her off.

He knows perfectly well that he won’t.

She talks to him now, though he still hasn’t let her see him. When she’s outside, or when she has the windows open, she’ll say things like, “How are you?” Or, “That was a bad storm last night. Hope you didn’t get too wet.” Or even, “I wish I could show you this show I’ve been watching on Netflix. You probably have no idea what that means, do you? I think you’d like it.”

When the fall’s cold snap came, she started leaving blankets out for him. Muzan brought them back to the den, for Rui and Zohakuten and the others. They’ll be warm this winter. When he goes into sleep with them, they’ll be warm until spring.

So he left his human a few birds he hunted, on the porch. She’d laughed, and said, “I—have no idea what to do with these. How about you not hunt for me? I’ve got food, I promise. But thank you!”

Muzan had taken back the birds, and left something from his collection behind. Like all his kind, he’s drawn to bright things, and he keeps the best ones for himself, in his part of the nest. So he left her a silver button, and a red ribbon, from his hoard.

She liked those. Muzan’s seen her wearing the ribbon, using it to pull her hair back.

A few nights ago, he started coming to the house at the same time, around sunset, every day. He’s done it since. She’s noticed—she talks more when she knows he’s there.

Yesterday, she teased him, and he dropped a nut on her head. She laughed until she almost fell over.

Muzan thinks he might like this human.

When your creature doesn’t come back all winter, you realize he’s probably hibernating. Some large predators do that. He’s probably one of them.

You were really worried the first week he didn’t turn up, though.

You’re not sure when he stopped being an it, when “the creature” became “your creature,” but you’ve gotten attached to him. You can tell when he’s there. He visits around sunset every day. Recently, he started interacting with you—dropping nuts and other things to make his point—even if you still haven’t seen him.

You spend the winter wondering what he looks like, if he’s warm enough. If he’s safe and comfortable and happy, while the snow falls outside and you turn up the heating.

When spring comes, you’re excited to have him back. And he comes back.

One night, you hear a knock at the door. It’s still a little cold at night, so you pull a blanket around yourself to answer it, not thinking about who the knock came from.

You pull the door open.

And there he is, letting you see him. Your creature. You let the blanket fall, unable to think of anything else.

He’s tall and thin, but lined with muscle—and he could almost pass for human, except for the dark tint on his forearms shading into black on his hands, or the deep red of his eyes, or the claws tipping his long, graceful fingers. He licks his lips, his eyes dropping nervously, and you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth and a long tongue.

His hair is long and black, but well-cared-for and clean, not draggled. His skin is porcelain pale, and he’s nude—but unlike a human, he doesn’t have any obvious genitals, just a smooth mound. (You immediately kick yourself for even looking.)

Very, very slowly, he holds out a hand toward you. It’s hesitant, almost fearful, so you meet him halfway with your own hand and squeeze his.

He jumps a little, startled, but then he leans closer, his eyelids fluttering. He has long lashes, you realize. Before you know what you’re doing, you lift your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. And he leans into it, turning to nuzzle against your palm.

“You—do you want to come in?” you ask.

It takes some time, but eventually he grows comfortable enough to show himself more frequently. When you’re gardening, struggling to pull a particularly stubborn sweet potato, he’s suddenly there to nudge you aside and dig it up with clawed hands. When you’re making breakfast, he shows up at the kitchen window and hands a few berries though it. He’s always there these days, whenever you turn around.

The first time he speaks, you almost jump out of your skin.

You’re talking to him, telling him about something inane—something you saw on Netflix—without expecting anything to fill the silence.

So when he says, “What is Netflix?” in a low mellow voice, you start, spilling your morning tea all over yourself and your blanket in the chair on the porch.

“Did I scare you?” he says, worried, and your heart jumps.

“I—I’ve never heard you speak. I didn’t even know you could,” you say, shoving the blanket off and rubbing your legs. The tea was still hot, and your thighs are hurting.

He kneels down in front of you, looking at your legs intently.

“It hurts,” he says softly. “Did it burn?”

“I don’t think so,” you manage, almost tongue-tied from seeing him so close to you. “But you—how did you learn English?”

“You,” he says, still intently studying your legs. “I listened to you.”

You huff an incredulous laugh. “Well, I always knew you were clever, but this is—“

He chuckles, and it’s a wonderful sound that makes your heart feel light and warm and full.

“I think you should change your clothes,” he says gently. “And then you can show me your Netflix.”

You do show him your Netflix, and other things around the house—the microwave, the fridge—and every time he sees something new and unexplained, he learns quickly. He adapts too; the television is not a threat, it’s entertainment. He doesn’t like the fridge, but he understands that the microwave makes food warm again, and he likes it better that way.

You learn too, more about him. His name is Muzan. He eats a lot of meat—preferably animals he hunts himself, though he seems to like eating with you—and has incredible senses. Smell seems particularly important to him; he can tell what you’ve eaten hours before, and find you unerringly with just your scent to go on.

After a little while, Muzan gets comfortable enough to visit every day, coming inside the house. He’s very intelligent, and spends a lot of time pouring over your books or discussing what he’s read with you. He likes documentaries or meaningful films, but generally doesn’t care for shows. If you want to watch one, he’ll settle himself beside you, reading silently.

And time passes like that, for weeks and months.

When summer is coming to a close at last, Muzan asks you to walk with him in the forest. He seems almost nervous when he asks, twisting his hands together. You often walk together on the paths, but this seems different somehow.

“What is it?” you ask gently. “Muzan, is something bothering you?”

He huffs a soft laugh.

“I want you to see my den,” he admits. “And meet my family.”

You can’t keep the smile off your face. You’re touched by the clear trust in that gesture. The two of you have come so far.

“Do they know I’m coming?” you check.

“Yes.” Muzan bites his lip. “They…may not trust you as I do right away.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to.” You slide your hand into his larger, dark-tinted one. “You’ve been hunted by humans, so you hunted them. I’m guessing they’ve experienced the same. Trust would be a big ask after that.”

Muzan pulls you into a fierce embrace, nuzzling into your neck.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice almost breaking.

The den is a cave, the entrance fairly cramped. Muzan guides you very carefully through it, at one point using his hand to stop you from slamming your knee into a sharp rock. It’s much bigger on the inside, with a pile of very familiar blankets directly in front of you on the floor. There are a few ledges, which seem to be full of bright things—buttons feature prominently, but so do shiny rocks and strips of cloth.

Muzan’s a bit like a crow, actually. Now you know where your button and ribbon came from—you’re wearing the ribbon in your hair today.

Zohakuten emerges first. He has black hair, like Muzan, and they’re clearly the same species. But he’s small, about the size of an 8-year-old. He’s glaring at you.

Muzan slips a hand around your waist. You take a deep breath.

“You’re Zohakuten, right?” you ask, squatting down. “I brought something for you.”

Muzan had explained that for his kind, their collections were very important. New members of a family group usually gave each other gifts, so you’d brought a few things.

Carefully, you hold your hand out. In it is a wooden dinosaur. “My uncle was a whittler,” you tell Zohakuten. “And he made this when I was little.”

Zohakuten sniffs it before he takes it.

“Your uncle ate a lot of cheese,” he says. Your brows rise.

“You can smell that?” When Zohakuten nods, you say, “You must have a really good nose.”

He smiles. Just a little.

Gyutaro comes out next, with Daki behind him. His hair is black; hers is white.

“You’re the one who gave us the blankets,” Gyutaro says flatly.

“Yeah. I’ve got something else for you though. Muzan told me you like knives, Guytaro.” You hand him the little pocketknife your mother gave you when you turned sixteen. “You want this one?”

Gyutaro looks it over. Then he takes it. “Thanks,” he mutters.

“So, do I have something?” Daki asks.

“Yeah, you do.” You give her a piece of embroidered cloth. “My mom’s mom made this when she was little.”

“What’s it for?”

“Being pretty,” you say, and wink. “Just like you.”

Daki squeals and hugs you. As she and her brother go to curl up in the blanket mound, you hear Gyutaro say, “You smell gross now.” Daki swats him, and snaps, “Nice things aren’t gross and she was nice, so she doesn’t smell gross. You’re gross.”

“Your hair’s gross,” Gyutaro mutters.

Apparently kids are still kids, even when they’re creatures in the woods.

When the sun sinks, and Rui still doesn’t come out, Muzan asks if you should go home. He’s worried about you being outside in the dark.

“Muzan,” you tell him, hands on hips, “if it’s okay with everyone, I’d rather stay.”

Zohakuten laughs. When you both look at him, he shrugs.

“I like her.”

Daki runs over and pulls up and down on Muzan’s arm.

“Can she stay? Can she please?”

Muzan looks over at Gyutaro. The boy shrugs.

“She doesn’t smell that gross,” he says, his arms folded. “I guess.”

Muzan sighs. “All right.”

Daki squeals with delight and drags you over to the blanket mound, pulling you down beside her. She curls up next to you like a cat, and starts telling all about everything in her collection. Halfway through, she starts yawning. A bit later, she falls asleep.

Gyutaro plops down next to her, stares at you for a second, and shuts his eyes. Zohakuten leans his head against your knee, looking over his gift again. And very gently, Muzan tucks himself against your other side, smiling.

“You’re smiling,” Zohakuten says, surprised.

Muzan puts a finger to his lips. “Don’t wake your siblings,” he says softly. Zohakuten wrinkles his nose.

“You’re going soft, papa,” he whispers.

Muzan shows his teeth playfully. “Oh, am I?”

“Definitely,” Zohakuten says. “You like her. You like her a lot.” He stares at you in the dark. “You’re all mushy now. You didn’t used to be mushy.”

“I’ll show you mushy,” Muzan warns. “In the morning.”

As Zohakuten rolls over, still holding his new present, he mumbles quietly, “That’s just what a mushy person would say.”

Bakugou is, for all intents and purposes, a massive baby.

God forbid you leave him for ten minutes before he starts wandering around the house looking for you. Mercy on you if you go out to the grocery store and don’t take him. And how dare you even consider get up to get a snack when he's in the bathroom, letting your shared spot get cold.

These things, he can not let go easily.

Naturally, this slips your mind every once in a while because a peaceful life with Bakugou Katsuki doesn't exist. When you forget, he makes it his mission to force you to remember his clingy ass.

Tonight, it would appear to be no different.

It's 02:30 when you snap back to reality, bleary eyes blinking to get your bearings back.

The lamp on the side table blinds you momentarily, there's music coming from the tv- credits, you deduce, from the show Denki had raved to you both about. When you angle your head up, you're met with a firm jawline that lets out a loud snore from the slight disturbance.

Katsuki never was good at staying awake during these things.

Smiling up at him, you're quick to place a tender little kiss on his chin, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches slightly. Gently, you slip out of his arms and cover him with the blanket, using the parted lips releasing the smallest little snores to ensure his slumber. He smacks his lips and turns slightly on his side, as if chasing the warmth you'd taken away, and you click the tv off to keep him in the dark. You shuffle your way into your bedroom to get your own rest; you shiver once you slip under the covers, the fabric cold from the lack of use and lack of Katsuki's body heat.

The minute you do warm up, however, you're out like a light, and you remain so for a few hours.

But then, there's someone at the end of your bed. You feel them, and it wakes you just barely. You shift the blankets higher on your shoulder for protection from whatever your subconsious picks up, and just when you feel normal, something speaks.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed is more than enough to snap you from your sleep, but it isn’t until you see the massive, bulky frame that your heart sinks and you scream, you scream as loud as you can, immediately scrambling to the corner of your bed.

“Stop screaming, it’s me.”

Your shaking hands immediately shoot to the lamp next to your bed and upon flicking it on, you’re greeted by a sleepy Katsuki, blanket around his shoulders and sleepy scowl on his face, as if you’re the one who just inconvenienced him.

“You freak! What are you doing!” You snap, quickly rubbing your eyes to knock the sleep from them to properly scold. He merely shrugs and smacks his tired lips, indifferent to the previous heart attack he’d given you.

“Left me alone on the couch,” he says, dropping the blanket onto the floor before crawling into bed next to you, casually. “We were snuggling. You abandoned me.”

“You-! I was-! Why-!”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he says, burying his face into his pillow and making a grabby hand for you, “c’mere, wanna spoon.”

Your heart, still pounding in your chest, finally lets breaths of air in, your hands trembling as you flick back off the light. You’re still mad, now shaking with fury, and as you roll to have your back facing him, you try to take deep breaths to calm down and not smother the man you somehow chose to love with a pillow.

“Hey,” he grumbles, tugging your sleep shirt. “Come here.”

“I can’t fucking stand you, Katsuki. I don’t even want to be in the same bed as you right now, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you.”

“And you thought threATENING ME AT THE END OF OUR BED WAS A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT?”

He goes silent, and you almost think he’s given up, and just as you blink your stinging eyes, he suddenly rolls on top of you, knocking the wind out of you at his heaviness.

“Katsuki!” You scold, but it’s shrouded in laughter, an absolute contrast of how you just were talking all of ten seconds ago.

“Now you can’t leave,” he says, cockily. “You wake me again and I will kill you.”

“You woke me up just now! You could’ve easily come to bed like any sane person!”

“….”

“Katsuki!”

“Cant hear you, I’m asleep.”

“KATSUKI!”